Half Myself
by imnotacommittee
Summary: Benedick learns something about the Prince (based on the 2011 Tate/Tennant production)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** – my apologies to Shakespeare. I'd make a complete mockery of your language if I tried to use it. So, I haven't.

This is based on a personal opinion of the 2011 Catherine Tate/David Tennant production. From the way a certain scene is played out, I believe the prince's feelings for Beatrice were a little stronger than just friendship.

The credit for this goes to thenoblelark (go look her up. She's amazing). The idea had been circling in my head for weeks, and I struggled to bring it to life properly many times (which she patiently read through and gave valuable feedback on). No matter what I tried, it just wasn't working. Then she, forever beautiful and ever more resourceful than I, suggested the setting. Once established, this practically wrote itself. So for that, and for countless other reasons, I am in her debt.

"**Half Myself" (Beatrice/Benedick/Don Pedro)**

Marriage had not lessoned Benedick's skills as a swordsman. Don Pedro was learning this the hard way as he was once again put on the defense as the Signor easily spotted his turn, deflecting the blow and returning it with unexpected speed.

The prince waved in surrender, smiling good naturally as he wiped his brow and studied his friend. Benedick had always been merry; so much so that people often misjudged him. No one expected the "prince's jester" to be the most ferocious fighter in the fleet. When he challenged, he did so with deadly force and when he fought, it was with focused strength.

Their company's latest battle was nearly a year gone. Their journey to Messina, the entertainment provided therein, and several months since had been kind to one of the prince's greatest champions.

Don Pedro had little wonder as to its cause.

"I see that your wife has not dulled your sword, Benedick," the prince joked.

"Nay, my Lord," the other answered. "She has sharpened it to be a danger even to myself."

"That I can attest to," Claudio ventured from the side, watching the sparring with amusement and eager to have his own turn.

Downing a glass of water with one long gulp, Benedick wiped his mouth. "And she has requested that I teach her the art of swordplay," he said offhandedly. "Not now, of course. Not in her condition."

"You've taught her how to fight?"

At their surprised reactions, Benedick's eyebrows rose. "Her reasons were just: what should she do to protect hearth and home if her husband be called off to war?"

"What did she do before your marriage?"

Benedick grinned. "As mistress of her own house, she didn't want to continue to do nothing but rely on the drunken guard for protection."

"You are an unconventional husband," Don Pedro observed.

"I admit ours is not what others have," Benedick said. But grinning in a private knowledge, he met his friend's eye. "I feel it is well suited for us."

Claudio chuckled and nodded at the prince. "My Lord, would you have taught Beatrice to wield a sword if she'd married you?"

Shocked, Benedick turned to Don Pedro. "What?"

The prince blinked at the surprised reaction. Claudio, too, looked at his kinsman. "Did you not know the prince had proposed to Beatrice?"

Benedick stared at his leader as if he had never seen him before. "No, I did not know that."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** – my apologies to Shakespeare. I'd make a complete mockery of your language if I tried to use it. So, I haven't.

**Half Myself (part 2)**

Don Pedro wiped his brow again to cover his reddening cheeks. "Well, it was…"

"I am surprised she did not mention it," Claudio said, which did not help easing Benedick's nerves.

"It was nothing," Don Pedro said quickly. Too quickly. "It was the night Claudio and Hero became engaged, and Beatrice and I were talking about alliances. She laughed it off as a lark."

"Was it?"

When the prince became incapable of meeting his friend's eyes, Benedick backed away, a cold weight forming in his gut. Dreading an answer, he asked, "And now?"

Benedick's spirits plummeted with each prolonged second of pure silence. Even Claudio looked uncomfortable. Finally, Don Pedro regarded his friend's troubled face. "It was nothing, I promise you. Just two people joking about marriage. And we were drinking more than we should have been."

Benedick remained frozen, waiting for an answer to his second, more pressing fear.

The prince sighed. "My feelings now are plain. You are both my dear friends. At least I hope to call you that."

Benedick blinked, trying hard to remove the building discomfort from his mind. "Of course!" he said. Even he could hear his own forced tone. He raised his sword. "Shall we resume?"

Claudio stepped forward. "I can take this round."

Don Pedro caught something in Benedick's eye. After a beat, he put a hand on the Count's arm. "No. We can do another."

Benedick stood at the ready and when Claudio gave the signal, he swung at the prince with unexpected power. Claudio jumped back, astonished. The prince, however, seemed to have foreseen it, and returned it with equal force. Benedick smiled with respect at the move and backed up to allow the prince a few strikes. He easily blocked them, and continued his more passive stance. Don Pedro, puzzled, raised his weapon at Benedick's upper ribs when without warning, the Signor swung hard and fast onto the prince's sword, causing the prince to slip a little on the hilt. Their eyes met, and Don Pedro could see pure fire. He narrowed his own gaze and pushed him away, angry at the aggression.

Claudio signaled the stop, and the prince tossed his sword upon the ground, glaring at his opponent.

For his part, Benedick's eyes had not left the prince since the duel had started. He stared at him like a predator about to strike. He knew he had been out of line, but the rage roaring within him was too much to bear. Horrible images had flooded his mind, and no matter how hard he'd swung his weapon, he could not cut them away.

What if Beatrice had accepted Don Pedro's proposal? What if at this moment, she was carrying the prince's child and not his? The thought made Benedick nearly retch; he finally looked away, doubling over himself and breathing in deeply.

Claudio gaped, shocked into silence.

Don Pedro, hands on his knees, rounded on Benedick. "Are you mad? Is that all it takes to stir up your jealously? A nearly-forgotten joke of a proposal that did not last a second before it was rejected? And laughed at?"

Benedick straightened. "Beatrice may have been in jest, but you, my Prince, clearly were not."

Don Pedro shook his head. "It all worked out as it ought to have, Benedick," he said slowly. "And please think nothing of it. Beatrice is yours."

"Beatrice is her own," Benedick corrected.

The prince raised his arm. "See!? You understand her far better than I. You and she are more well matched than we all thought you would be. And how long until the fruit of that love arrives? Another two, three months?"

His heart slowing, Benedick looked back to the town where his wife was about. "Four."

"Frankly, I am a little bruised that you think the worst of me."

Benedick turned and felt shame creep in. "Prince, I -"

"Do you think I'd send you to your death as David commanded Uriah?"

"Of course not!"

"I am happy your marriage is so agreeable to you, my friend," Don Pedro said, the pain still evident in his voice.

Stricken, Benedick stood still.

"Whatever my feelings were are currently, they are mine to govern, and not yours to concern yourself over. But be assured the only threat is within your own mind."

Benedick sighed. "If you will forgive me, my Lord. I was an ass."

Don Pedro walked over and clasped his hand atop Benedick's shoulder. "You protected what is yours just now. Do not regret that. But know there is no danger from me."

The other straightened. "I cannot blame you for at least asking her," he said.

Don Pedro's eyes shifted. "She is one of the finest ladies of Italy."

Benedick's smile widened. "The finest," he corrected.

"Your bias is expected." Don Pedro walked over and reclaimed his sword. "A proper round this time?"

"Of course."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** – my apologies to Shakespeare. I'd make a complete mockery of your language if I tried to use it. So, I haven't.

**Half Myself (part 3)**

They raised their swords, Benedick's eyes calmer and more focused. But Don Pedro's breath was rattled; he was suddenly unnerved. Feelings he'd thought long since buried had been forced to the front of his mind. He had tried to forget his disastrous proposal and the embarrassing rejection of a response. He could not blame Beatrice for not taking him seriously; one of her greatest virtues was her genuine modesty. She had no reason to suspect a prince would have taken any interest in her.

He gave an unperceivable head shake to rid himself of the images assaulting him. The way her hair looked at sunset, her skin adorned with freckles, the unique blue of her eyes he found hypnotic , especially when they sparkled with amusement.

He'd thought he'd moved on, but he found himself more lost than never. And now he faced her husband, _his friend_, who wielded a sword and just had learned of his hidden desires.

Claudio raised the signal to start, and Benedick lunged forward in a temperate gesture, to start the volley in friendly practice. The prince, caught in his mortification, misread the act and swiped it violently away. Benedick stumbled a little, and repositioned his grasp. He made the error of diverting his attention to Claudio, giving the Count a concerned plea to stop. He did not see Don Pedro's quick attack until it was nearly too late. The look of wild anguish in the prince's eyes stunned Benedick; he barely had enough time to pivot to the side, but he had not been fast enough, and white heat burned down his arm.

He flung his sword aside as Claudio ran to the two men.

"Enough!" the younger man commanded.

Don Pedro stood as a statue, numb with horror. Benedick clutched at his arm, wincing at the sting. Claudio gave the prince a reproachful glare before turning to his cousin to ascertain the wound's severity.

"It's nothing," Benedick assured them. "It's only a scratch."  
"Don't be a hero, Benedick," Claudio cautioned.

Chuckling through gritted teeth, Benedick shook his head. "No, I speak the truth. It's a graze and no more." He looked up at his opponent, who had turned white with shame.

"Benedick, I -"

Benedick exchanged a glance with Claudio before addressing his leader. "Your grace, I am sorry that I have offended you so much to warrant this attack," he said with a sincere and contrite voice. He thought his earlier apology had been sufficient, but clearly the prince was still wounded that he thought so low of him.

If anything the prince's pallor increased. He looked like he was about to be sick. "No," he rasped. "No."

"Sir?"

Don Pedro straightened. His emotions were raw upon his face, but he could not find his voice. Benedick slowly understood what was holding his friend's tongue. He turned to Claudio. "Go fetch some wrappings and water." At his cousin's hesitation, he gestured impatiently. "Please! All will be well here."

Assured, Claudio dashed off. Alone, the two men regarded one another.

"I am sorry all this has been exposed," Benedick started.

"I thought I had forgotten," the prince confessed in a small voice.

Benedick cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "I did not mean to cause you to despair. My selfish and insecure feelings were my own to bear. I did not consider yours."

A flash of sadness ripped through Don Pedro. "Do not think that I cannot control my emotions. But for this once, I have well been their master."

"I know that," Benedick said. "I am sorry such pain lingers in you. It cannot be easy."

Don Pedro snorted at the pity in Benedick's voice. "Please don't."

"Have your feelings strengthened?" There was nothing but concern in Benedick's voice.

The prince's smile was weak, but true. "I do not know what they are."

At the other's cautious nod, Don Pedro exhaled and looked away. "Honestly, I probably will always harbor some affection for her," he confessed. Turning back, his smile was more assured. "But my love for both of you will always be stronger: the love of a genuine friendship."

"And we for you, prince."

Don Pedro looked at the red seeping through Benedick's sleeve. "That cannot be forgiven."

Benedick made a dismissive wave. "It will mend. I have had worse in battle."

"From enemies! How can such a wound from a friend heal as soundly?"

Benedick smiled. "You were not yourself. I know you, my Liege."

"You say that after what has happened?"

Benedick nodded fiercely. "If you still desire my friendship, I will be honored to have it."

Don Pedro looked doubtful. Not at the truth of Benedick's words, but whether or not he could ever face the man, or his wife, again. "You say that to a man who has just confessed to…"

Despite himself, Benedick's jaw did clench. "I do not have any fear that you would act upon it," he said. "You have already proclaimed to be the master of your emotions. I trust that you are."

At Don Pedro's discomfort, Benedick sighed. "When you feel it is time, of course."

Blinking, the prince looked up in surprise. "It's not as severe as all that."

Benedick's eyebrows rose incredulously.

"By my honor, Benedick, your happiness, both your and Beatrice's happiness, far outweigh any feelings had or have. I will survive, as I always do."

Benedick considered this and regarded his friend, whose sincerity was plain. "Very well, my Lord. But perhaps I should be off and let the situation settle."

Fear froze Don Pedro's blood. "Will you tell her?"

Pausing, Benedick thought about it. "I cannot hide this," he said, waiving to his arm. "And Beatrice and I have no secrets."

The color began to leave Don Pedro's face again. Claudio was running up with a basin of water and fresh towels.

Benedick smiled kindly at his friend. "But this is not my secret to tell," he said. "If you wish her to know, than you will be the one to disclose it."

Claudio reached the pair and helped Benedick in removing his shirt. The Signor had been correct; the wound was not deep. Benedick hissed as it was cleaned and wrapped. When he determined it was safe to leave, he shook his cousin's hand and looked at the prince.

"Until next time," he said.

Don Pedro nodded, still too raw to say anything more. The friendship had not been ruined, and the prince knew he had to move on. If not, he'd lose two people for whom he cared very deeply, and that would be the worst fate of all.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** – my apologies to Shakespeare. I'd make a complete mockery of your language if I tried to use it. So, I haven't.

**Half Myself (final part)**

The shadows were starting to lengthen in the late afternoon sun as Benedick reached his home. Greeted with alarm, he waved off the servants' concern and begged to know where his wife had hidden herself. He ignored their advice to wash and went straight to their small courtyard.

Standing at the threshold, Benedick studied the figure before him, which seemed to change with the passing of every day. He was attuned to every new thing about her, both in body and spirit. It was both fascinating and humbling, this journey they were taking together. The mystical glow of pregnancy had fallen upon Beatrice like a cloud. She was luminescent. She'd claim it was the sun's unforgiving heat, but Benedick knew better. There was not a more stunning mother-to-be in all of Italy.

Beatrice was dozing on a lounge chair. She'd been doing that more often than late, and he was glad she had heeded the doctor's advice and permitted herself to be pampered. Nothing made Benedick happier than fussing over her every whim.

Loathe disturbing her, he started to turn. Perhaps he should have gone to change first so his appearance would not be so unsettling. But given the events of the last hour, he'd felt a compulsion to be near her.

"Benedick? Is that you?" There was fatigue in her voice, and he cringed at waking her. And he hated himself for what she was about to see.

"Yay, my Love," he said in the shadow. He watched her rise to a sitting position and then fluff her hair. On her lap had been a notepad and pencil. She regarded it for a moment before looking up as he walked forward.

"I've been listing names," she said, the fatigue melting away into merriment. "I seem to be set on something meaning joyful, because -"

Her eyes widened. "Benedick!" she exclaimed and started to push herself up.

Instantly, he was at her side to prevent such an action. He placed his hands on her shoulders, keeping her seated. He knelt before her.

"What happened!?"

He took her hands in his. "It appears I am a little out of practice with the sword, for the prince nicked me."

She searched his eyes, knowing there was more to the story. But allowing the moment to come when he was ready, she smirked. "I see you are need of some practice. Shall I get the rapier?"

He grinned. "You will overpower me in two moves."

"Only two?"

"You're out of practice as well."

"Just for a few months longer," she vowed.

"Of course," he agreed leaning up to kiss her cheek. He pulled a chair to sit across from her.

She studied him. "What really was the cause of that?" she asked, pointing to his arm.

Benedick exhaled, finding the right way to bring the subject about. He was not proud of his jealousy, but he would admit to it. Avoiding Don Pedro's secret was another matter. "I was told something that disturbed me, and I did not handle it well. My technique became lax."

Beatrice nodded. "And what were you told?"

"That the prince once proposed to you," he said evenly. But he was curious to see her reaction. She looked blankly at him.

"He…" she trailed as her eyes narrowed in remembering. "I don't…"

"The night Claudio and Hero became engaged," Benedick supplied.

Her cheeks became a little redder as the door was finally opened. "Oh yes, he did!" she said and laughed. "I thought he was in jest."

"That's how he remembers it as well," Benedick said, hoping nothing more of the prince's feelings would be discussed.

But Beatrice's smile faded. "He wasn't though, you know," she admitted lowly. "He actually meant it. And when I realized that, I made a proper fool of myself. I don't want to remember what I said after that!" When Benedick remained silent, her mouth dropped a little. "Do not tell me you were jealous!"

Benedick sat up straighter. "It was not my best reaction, I admit, but he's a prince! And what if you'd said yes!?"

"Oh, Benedick," she said. "You fool of a man."

"Mock me as I deserve," he muttered.

"You honestly think I would have accepted him?"

"Well, he's a prince, Beatrice. He could offer you the world."

She gave him a pointed stare that spoke too plainly her thoughts on having "the world."

His eyes dropped. "I am not proud of it."

"I am more wounded that you felt jealousy at all," she said quietly. "Surely you have no cause to suspect…"

His eyes blazed, and he took her hands. "Never! Never for one second. No, _less_ than a second. Just as I pray you do not think anything so black of me."

She shook her head, her eyes wandering to his wounded arm. "And after stewing in such dark thoughts, you fought him with your sword?"

"We were practicing anyway," he explained, bowing his head. "I let my emotions get the better of me. Fortunately, the prince is a true gentleman and forgave my stupid behavior."

She exhaled, relieved they would not have a problem within their circle of friends.

Benedick peeked up at her. "But I know I have no need of such green emotions," he said softly. "Our union has made me happier than I deserve to be."

She placed her hand beneath his chin and guided his face upwards. "For me as well, my love," she said. With her other hand, she gestured to the life growing within her. "There is only one man who I'd allow to put me in such a state."

He placed his hands atop her stomach, caressing their child within. She reached out and rubbed his shoulders. "Only one man who can sharpen my wit…" He shifted to be closer and moved his hands around her, trailing up and down her back. Soon, her fingers moved upward to run through his hair. "Only one man who ignites such fire within me, I can barely breathe…" He kissed her with gentle reverence. She pulled him closer, running her tongue along his lips, demanding entrance. He complied, drawing a low moan from each of them.

Pulling back, she lightly traced his cheek. "One man who could ever have my heart."

He moved from the chair to sit next to her. Resting his forehead against hers, he sighed in pure contentment. "Joyful is the perfect word," he whispered and kissed her again.

**Final A/N:** Maybe things resolved a little too easily, but I don't know how entertaining a story would be if they just kept talking about it. Because that's all I can see the two of them really doing – talking. This story briefly addressed how I think such a revelation would be handled: Benedick would be jealous at first and then calm down. Don Pedro (who still carries a torch because he's apparently not allowed to be happy for the time being) is a little sad but says he'll get over it. And one day he will. Maybe I can Mary Sue myself into a sequel to finally divert his attention from the lovely Beatrice.

Should Benedick have told Beatrice? Eh, out of respect for the prince, no. Issues between husband and wife? Maybe. But again, what would she really do about it other than feel bad and give the poor prince a pat on the back?

Or it could go something like this:

"_Tis the truth," Don Pedro said in a rushed voice. "I did hold you in very high regard."_

_Beatrice's expression became wary._

"_When I proposed a year ago, I meant it," he continued. "I thought we could have made a good match."_

_Her eyes narrowed._

_He smiled kindly. "But I quickly saw that while we could have been a good match, your eyes sparkled when they met Benedick's. Your wit was sharper whenever you were around him, and your entire being just became alive at the mere mention of him. It was clear who held your heart."_

_She exhaled; her face warmed by the gentlest of smiles._

_He'd feared that there would be pity in her gaze, and much to his eternal relief, there was none. Her eyes only held kindness. Encouraged, he stood straighter. "I hope one day to have a match that is half has fulfilling as yours."_

_She walked over to him, cupping his face in her hands with tenderness._

"_I know you will, for yours is the kindest and noblest of souls," she whispered, lightly pressing her lips to his with chaste affection._


End file.
